


Vows

by thesometimeswarrior



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Episode: s02e09 The Mephisto Waltz, Family, Ficlet, Gen, Implied/Rederenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 22:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18748012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: “She’s meant to rule by his side! As his Queen!”Zelda knows what it is to be married.Over herdead body.





	Vows

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the tags re: content warnings.

Sabrina’s words—talk of prophecies and the return of the Dark Lord, the Dark Lord in _Greendale_ , even that Sabrina herself is the harbinger of such a prophecy, the _mortal_ harbinger—all strike Zelda with a sort of surreal numbness, a distant horror such that she might feel at the mention of an old story of tragedy befalling a faraway coven or a particularly gruesome parable in the Satanic Bible. But it’s Ambrose’s words that jolt her, strike her like a silver bullet or a stake in the heart:

“She’s meant to rule by his side! As his Queen!”

“How? Wha…as his child bride?!”

(Not like a silver bullet, nor a stake in the heart, but like a music box, spinning, dancing, dancing, dancing uncontrollably…like a hand on her back, her thigh, her breast, between her legs, that her body cannot shake away, no matter how much her internal voice _rages_ …like the _scream_ of her cheek muscles as they strained and cramped, forcibly locked in a smile… _Smile, Zelda...Smile for me, wife_ …)

(She’d thought, once, that she could marry for power.)

(She’d been _wrong_.)

( _It was torture_ , she’d said. _Being conscious, while Faustus made me dance to his infernal tune. Aware every second, yet unable to make my own choices..._ ) 

(He’d made her dance…made her… _made_ her…She’d been an object in his grasp, as though she were a clay golem he’d molded, a limp body he’d animated to serve him, to _pleasure_ him...and he’d forced her to watch, to _feel_ it, but never to object, never to disobey, never to even speak without his say-so— _Do you not know that witches ought to be seen and not heard, Zelda?_ — never to _move_ without his so desiring, no matter what he did to her, no matter how many times he…he…) 

( _Demons of the Deep, accept this gift of blood. My bride and I will fortify our physical bodies with the blood of this sacrificed being_...) 

(The blood had tasted bitter in her mouth, had trickled down his lips…like fangs, like a smile…) 

( _Smile for me, wife_.)

( _Sister Zelda, in the name of Satan, you shall respect me, obey me, and submit to me. As Lilith served Satan, so will you serve me. You will forsake all others, lift me up, and exalt me for all eternity…_ ) 

( _Demons of the Deep, accept this scarified being._ ) 

( _Sacrifice this being._ ) 

( _Dance for me, wife_.) 

And the notion of _Sabrina_ …she’s a _child_ , only a child, Edward’s child, _her_ child…a bride, a _wife_ … “Over my dead body!” 

Ambrose’s eyes slowly meet her own in something like disbelief. “You’ll stand against the Dark Lord, Auntie?” 

She can see why it would be a revelation to him, a shock. Sabrina had asked her a similar question once, months ago, just after the Feast of Feasts, voice trembling and trying to hide it, as though she was afraid of Zelda's answer: _What would have happened if it was me who was selected Queen and not Prudence? Would you have let them do to me what was done to Mildred?_

_Never_ , Zelda croaked in reply. 

_But if it was the Dark Lord’s will?_

_It wouldn’t have mattered._

She’d been certain, then—Infernal Hell below, in retrospect _of course_ she had—but her certainty had surprised her too, _terrified_ her, even. That she, Zelda Spellman, sister of the late High Priest of the Church of Night, most pious of witches, might possibly prioritize something, _anything_ —even Sabrina’s life—above the will of the Dark Lord? Sacrilege. And the _implications_ … 

But, then, the hypothetical stakes had only been Sabrina’s death. They’re higher, this time. And so very real. 

She should know. 

( _Lie still, wife_.) 

Zelda doesn’t hesitate. Her reply rings out across the mortuary like her niece’s cries had nearly sixteen years previously, like her cackle of watery relief will, when, a full day later, this is all over. 

“To defend Sabrina? Certainly.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I love comments!


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